


Blood and Gunpowder

by chancellorxofxtrash (PhoebeMurdivine)



Category: 91 Days (Anime)
Genre: Angelo is an Homme Fatale, Angst, Asexual Character, Canonical Character Death, IT MAKES SENSE IF YOU READ IT, M/M, Manipulation, at least a bit, i mean it sorta is but it also isnt, look just bc i tagged avilero this isnt really avilero, melancholic fluff, most of it is, obviously, ok this gets fucked up yo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-10
Updated: 2016-11-10
Packaged: 2018-08-30 06:16:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8521651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhoebeMurdivine/pseuds/chancellorxofxtrash
Summary: Corteo wasn’t sure he had imagined it or not, but he could have swore that Angelo… Avilio had the smell of gunpowder and blood.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Okay this is mostly Corteo/Angelo. It is. There is a some Angelo/Nero in there but that's more one-sided. Just a fair warning, if you came here for Avilero, this might not be what you are looking for.

Corteo wasn’t sure he had imagined it or not, but he could have swore that Angelo… Avilio had the smell of gunpowder and blood.

Not always like that, of course. Often there were other scents, obviously - the smell of alcohol, the ever-present smell of tobacco. Sometimes coffee. But under all of that, there was the smell of blood and gunpowder, at least Corteo had no other words to describe it. Avilio’s scent always had a swift metallic scent underneath, like no one else around him did. Corteo wasn’t sure if anyone else had noticed it, apart from him, but Corteo was always more perceptive about Avilio, even in their childhoods, when he still was known to everyone as Angelo, and everything was alright. At least more alright than it had been now. Or if things weren’t alright, Corteo and Angelo did not know that.

So Corteo noticed things.

Corteo noticed the way Nero and Avilio came back to Lawless. Avilio’s small smile when Nero clapped his shoulder, the ease that Nero carried himself around Avilio.

He also noticed how weird it was.

Back when he was still Angelo, he smiled a lot more. Honest, open smiles, but a smart glint in his eyes, especially when he was planning mischief. Always full of life.

The way Avilio smiled around Nero was decidedly different, and Corteo couldn’t put his finger on it.

“What happened on your road trip?”

His voice was barely more than a whisper, and Avilio only looked at him from the corner of his eye.

“I think you are better off not knowing, Corteo.”

That was all he said about that. So Corteo didn’t ask, especially when Avilio started to talk about what he found out from Nero about that night that stole the light from Angelo Lagusa’s smiles and forged him into being Avilio Bruno.

So life went on, and obviously things started to spiral down more and more, and all Corteo could do was to hang on to his dear life, running after Avilio. Who was following Nero’s footsteps, with barely even looking back. It just how their life ended up being, and Corteo hated it more day by day.

It was after Frate died that Corteo saw something that clicked things together at least a little.

-

One of the doors was a bit open, and Corteo couldn’t help but glancing in the room, and he immediately wished he didn’t.

Nero was sitting on the couch, Avilio kneeling before him - and Nero was leaning forward, leaning on Avililo for support, face buried in Avilio’s shoulder. Avilio’s hand in Nero’s hair, gently caressing him, whispering into his ear, Corteo had no idea what could have he whispered.

Then Nero pulled his head back, took Avilio’s face between his hands, and just pressed a kiss to his lips.

And Corteo contined walking.

-

All in all, Corteo noticed things, even without this. This just strengthened his suspicions.

He noticed the way that while Avilio always stayed out of reach from everyone else, he let his hands brush the back of Nero’s hand sometimes. He noticed the way there was sometimes a smile in the corner of his mouth, when sometimes Avilio put a hand on Nero’s shoulder, on his lower back.

These were easier to notice, and Corteo knew he wasn’t the only one who did. He noticed Barbero growing more and more uneasy with every passing hour that Avilio and Nero spent around each other. Even Tigre got lost in thought every now and then and Corteo was sure there was a questioning gaze in Fio’s eyes when she got on the train. People knew. People noticed. People _ talked,  _ although no one dared to talk much out loud. It was mostly whispers through Lawless, or laughter from Fango’s home when he heard the rumours.

People noticed the way Nero’s tired eyes would go way more gentle around Avilio, the way he seeked out his company over his childhood friends.

But over all of this, Corteo noticed something not many people did.

The fact that Avilio’s smiles never quite reached his amber eyes, not even when looking at Nero.

-

Truth to be told, he almost forgot what it was like, seeing Angelo’s smile light up his eyes too, because now it was Avilio, with cruel eyes and sharp edges, and the scent of gunpowder and blood in his steps.

He almost forgot what it was like, until it all went to hell, and Corteo’s own hands were covered in blood, and there were bloodstained windows and curtains in his wake as well, but there was small time of silence and peace.

And there was Angelo, with a smile on his face, and in his eyes as well, and Corteo’s heart did skip a few beats.

-

“So. You and Nero. How did that start?”

Angelo was sitting on the floor, and it was hard not to think of him as Angelo now - his usual impeccable clothing were more messy, more uncaring, didn’t put as much effort into looking presentable, not like when he was walking around as Nero’s guarddog, his right-hand man, his… whatever he was.

Right now, he wasn’t Avilio, but he wasn’t fully Angelo either, because the smell of blood and gunpowder was still there, but he was more Angelo than he was Avilio.

Corteo was aware the two were the same, but this was easier. Easier than to make the grown up mafioso into almost an entirely different person in his mind, compared to the young child full of life.

In away, he was a different person, after all.

“It’s not exactly what you think it is.”

“I think that you would use whatever you have to, to reach your revenge. To get close to them. So you did.”

Angelo turned, and looked at him, eyes carefully hiding his thoughts.

Corteo smiled a little.

“Is it still not what I think it is?”

And Angelo smiled back, and his amber eyes were glinting with some small light.

“I’m sorry.”

“Huh? For what?”

“I forgot how well you could always read me.”

-

When Angelo kissed him he gently raised his chin with one hand, and he tasted like cigarettes and coffee, and Corteo wished that time would stop. That Angelo would never have to go back, that he would never continue on his revenge mission.

He did consider asking him not to do that. He looked at all the pots and utensils they bought, and considered asking Angelo to stay. Or to get up together, get on a train, and get off somewhere else, far, far from away from this place, from their pasts, from their memories.

He did not.

“I thought you’d have more questions.”

Angelo murmured this to his shoulderblades, when they were both lying on the mattress on the floor - the bed was too small for two people, and Angelo wrapped his arms around Corteo’s waist, without saying a word before this sentence.

“How far are you willing to go with Nero?”

It was quiet for a few seconds, and Corteo knew that Angelo understood the hidden second meaning behind the question, the past tense behind the future one.

“I would prefer not to have sex with him if that’s what are you referring to.” Angelo said bluntly, and Corteo felt his own face heat up a little. These weren’t things he usually talked about. “It’s not even about Nero’s person. Sex in general has no appeal to me at all.”

“But if it’d come to that…”

Silence, and Angelo moved his head a little, putting his chin on Corteo’s shoulder, letting his cheeks touch.

“I think I would have done that a week or two ago, yes.”

“...and now you wouldn’t?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Corteo couldn’t see it, but he could feel Angelo’s smile on his own skin.

“Guess.”

He couldn’t help smiling either.

“Do you think Nero is in love with you?”

“I doubt it” Angelo said simply. “He trusts me, he cares about me. Other than that, I’m reasonably attractive, so finds himself entertained with me. I offer him comfort. I doubt that’s love, or anything like that. Besides, he doesn’t even know the real me. He can’t love someone he doesn’t even know.”

“I know you.”

“I know.”

-

Then he couldn’t stay any longer, and when Angelo was putting on his hat and coat, Corteo could basically see him putting on the face of Avilio Bruno as well, and Corteo felt his heart go heavy.

So he moved forward, grabbed the collar of Angelo’s coat, pulling him into a kiss.

“Come back. You have to come back” Corteo whispered. “There can be more to this than revenge, okay? After you finish what you started… come back. We can find what else to do later. Just come back, Angelo.”

He whispered, putting their foreheads together, and Corteo saw Angelo smile a little.

“I will.”

-

-

In the end, it wasn’t Angelo who came back.

It was Corteo who went back.

-

-

Ending up in this situation was not part of Avilio’s plan, at all. True, most of his plans, he was just winging them, but getting out of the situations with quick thinking, and catching opportunities.

Opportunities. Like that time when Nero leaned over and kissed him in the car one time, after they parked.

Sure, he tried to steal his car keys immediately afterwards, but it still happened. Even if Nero complained that Avilio tasted like pineapples.

It was an opportunity, so he took it.

And it wasn’t like the attention was unwelcome, in a way. Being flirted with and kissed by someone who helped murdered his family probably should made his skin crawl more than it did, but here they were.

Nero was really charismatic, and Avilio could not deny that it was… enjoyable, being the center of his attention. So that was definitely a plus that he didn’t act like a total… well. That he didn’t turn out another Fango behind closed doors. That would have made Avilio’s job harder.

But it was still very easy to stand up and move on, and not think about Nero’s lips and his fingers caressing his face or his hand, once he was out of his sight.

It was still easy to bring his whole family down, especially after…

After…

Avilio closed his eyes, and took a deep breath.

_ It’s okay, Corteo. I’ll keep my promise. I’ll go back to you. It just seems like our situation will be a bit different than what we believed it’d be. _

-

Avilio had seen Nero angry before. He radiated with fury against Serpente, when he assumed he killed Vanno. But this, this was different. This was new.

When Nero pressed the gun against his forehead, there were all those emotions on his face, and Avilio tried to recognize them all, his own impending death notwithstanding.

Anger.

Betrayal.

Pain.

Heartbreak…?

Nero didn’t pull the trigger.

Once again, the bastard didn’t pull the trigger.

Angelo never hated him more.

-

**_“You should have killed me then!”_ **

He couldn’t stop crying, every time he felt like he’d stop, a new wave of sobs broke up, tears streaming down his face that was still aching from the hit he got from Nero.

He slid down by the tree, Nero also kneeling down, and he seemed unsure what to say - Nero Vanetti was at loss for words, and it was anything but usual.

“If you had killed me, none of this would have happened. Your family would still be strong and alive, and all of you would be together. Corteo would be going to college.  _ You should have killed me.” _

Total silence, and he was not even surprised that when Nero talked again, he changed the topic.

Of course he did.

“Was anything real?”

Angelo wiped his face with the back of his tied-together hands, trying to compose himself, shoulders still shaking.

“Answer me. Avilio, Angelo, whatever is your name. Was anything real?”

Angelo looked up, and yes, that was definitely heartbreak on Nero’s face.

_ Oh. _

_ He loved me, after all. _

_ Or still loves me. _

_ … _

_ Such a shame, isn’t it, Corteo? _

-

He did not answer.

-

“What should I answer?”

He was alone in the bathroom of a diner, hands untied now, Nero apparently trusting enough to let him go to the toilet alone. Angelo briefly looked at the windows - he could have climbed out, but what was the point?

So he just looked in the mirror.

“Should I tell the cruel truth, Corteo? Should I lie and be kind?”

Neither of the option were really welcoming to him.

Telling him the cruel truth, completely shattering Nero’s heart… that idea did leave a bad taste in his mouth. He remembered the man when he was still jovial, and full of laughter, and leaving him behind with one more jab in the heart… what was the point? There was no point to that at all. He already took everything from Nero.

“But if I lie and tell him that yes, it was real, what if he doesn’t pull the trigger?” Angelo whispered, leaning towards to his mirror image. “I can’t keep on pretending, and if he thinks I feel the way he does, he might not pull the trigger. What will happen then? What should I do, Corteo?”

Obviously, ghosts did not answer, on accounts of not existing outside of Angelo’s mind.

-

-

So in the end he picked neither options.

-

-

The sun was shining, the ocean’s sounds were calming, and the man on Nero’s side smelt like pineapples and gunpowder and blood.

“You asked me if anything was real. In the beginning, there wasn’t. Now, I’m not sure.”

Nero stopped, and the man - Angelo, Avilio, who knows - he kept walking.

Nero remembered his kisses in the car when they were fleeing (when they thought they had to flee for avenging Vanno, but he was kissing Vanno’s killer all along), he remembered his fingers in his hair, comforting him after Frate’s death (which was again, his fault), and he felt his hand trembling a little. All of those memories having a much more sour aftertaste now than Avilio’s kisses had, pineapples be damned.

But his hands weren’t trembling anymore when he pulled the trigger.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
